#i wanted to have curufin comfort finrod and i doubt finrod has any insecurities appearance wise. but he’s sensitive to the cold which is

[gardensofthemoon]

Curufin/Finrod + 21 - on a place of insecurity pls?

21 - on a place of insecurity. prompt list here

“Easy on the firewood, Ingo, do you want to turn your bedchamber into a forge?” groaned Curufin. He stretched, loose-limbed and warmed with pleasure after yet another of their nightly political debates. The furs, which had provided a symphony of sensation during Finrod’s well-put counterargument, were now sticking unpleasantly to his naked skin.

“I’m not,” replied Finrod, “freezing in my own damned bed.” He prodded at the fireplace with a poker until the flames danced merrily sparking with copper-red bursts.

Curufin opened his mouth but found he couldn’t jab at him. He watched through half-lidded eyes as Finrod draped himself with a robe. A thick, velvet robe, his mind supplied, long-sleeved and brushing against the floor.

Far away, outside the stonewall shields of the city, snowstorms were plundering the open fields, covering the frozen earth in white.

Finrod shivered.

“Come here,” said Curufin without thinking. He scooted over, arms opening wide, and Finrod slipped in. He gathered Finrod close and barely suppressed a yelp when Finrod’s icy fingers dug into his rear.

“Warm me up?” Finrod’s usual nonsense made him roll his eyes. He had a mind to question Finrod’s generous collection of seasonal loungewear, or point out the several blankets that had been rucked to the side sometime midway through Curufin’s concluding point. However the hour was late, and liquid-lazy contentment was streaming in his veins. He chose the cleverer option and let Finrod think he was touched by the poor attempt at pillow-talk.

“Don’t laugh,” Finrod whined. Curufin felt Finrod pouting against his cheek, and hid a smile. His hair was tickling him, that was all. “I really am cold.”

“What don’t I do for you,” said Curufin, and kissed Finrod on the tip of his freezing nose.